Pie vs Spy
by eggsaladstain
Summary: He's a straight-laced SHIELD agent, working undercover at a Michelin-rated restaurant. She's a carefree hacktivist who owns the bakery across the street. He has a license to kill and the knife skills of an Iron Chef. She can take down firewalls before her oven finishes preheating. Can their love take the heat or will it go up in flames? An A/U crackfic inspired by Lifetime movies.
1. L'Aperitif

**Pie vs. Spy**

I.

L'Aperitif

...

On his first day as a SHIELD agent, Grant Ward is handed a chef's uniform and a roll of knives.

_Suit up_, Agent Hill tells him, _you're going undercover. _

He stares at her for a few seconds, then laughs, tossing the coat over his shoulder. _That's a good one_, he chuckles, _definitely the most creative rookie prank I've ever heard. _He pulls the bag open, expecting wire snakes or fake grenades to pop out, but stops short when he sees a full set of actual, professional chef's knives.

The laughter catches in his throat and he looks up at Agent Hill, her expression as serious as ever.

_It's not a prank_, she says, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her tone. _Coulson asked for you specifically._ She grabs her tablet and walks briskly out of the room.

Ward stares after her in shock. _Agent Coulson?_, he repeats, grabbing the roll off the table and running to catch up to her.

_With all due respect, Agent Hill, it's only my first day and I barely have any field experience_–

She stops in her tracks and turns back to face him. _I am well aware of your qualifications, Agent Ward, or rather, lack thereof, and I have expressed the same concerns to Agent Coulson myself_.

_And he still wanted me?_ Ward asks in surprise.

Agent Hill sighs, nodding her head slowly. _He would not be swayed. _She looks him up and down and shakes her head in exasperation. _You need to change_, she says, walking down the hall, _the cab will be here in 20 minutes and I still need to debrief you. _

Ward makes his way towards the restroom and turns back to look at her. He's still convinced this is all an elaborate prank, but she yells back, _hurry up!_, without breaking her stride, and that's when it finally starts to sink in. He rushes into a stall and changes into the uniform, making sure to strap a gun to his ankle and tucking a dagger into his belt.

Not that he needs it.

Where he's going, there are plenty of knives.

…

The cab pulls up to an unassuming restaurant with a picket fence and shutters over the windows. The sign by the door swings slightly in the breeze and Ward does a double take when he reads the name. Maybe his French is rusty, but he swears that means–

_Yes, the restaurant is called House of Shield,_ Agent Hill answers for him, leading him down the alley by the building and through the back door. _It's a coincidence, _she raises her voice as they enter the kitchen_, the restaurant was just built a couple years ago and has no affiliation with our organization, but Coulson seems to think it's hilarious. _Her voice disappears, and when he rounds the corner, she's gone.

_Agent Hill?_, he calls, looking around the kitchen, but all he sees are line cooks and servers. _Agent–_

A hand grabs him and pulls him into a room before he can even reach for his weapon. The door clicks shut and he shivers, taking in his surroundings and realizing he's standing in a freezer.

_Of course, _says an unfamiliar voice from behind him_, it also helps that this restaurant happens to be a favorite of one of our targets_.

Ward whips around and blinks at the man in front of him._ Agent...Coulson?_, he asks, taking in the man's matching uniform. Pulling out a whisk from his pocket, the man drops it into a bowl and begins vigorously stirring the mixture inside. Agent Hill stands to the side, arms crossed, rolling her eyes.

The man steps forward, still stirring, and nods.

_Welcome to Chez Bouclier_.


	2. Champagne

**Pie vs. Spy**

II.

Champagne

…

It's bigger on the inside, Skye thinks to herself as she enters the bakery.

_Her_ bakery.

She's been here more times than she can count, planning and re-planning the layout, dreaming about it every night for the past couple of weeks, but she's still struck by how large the space is every time she walks through the doors.

Her heels are sharp on the wooden floor as she sets the last box of supplies down on the counter. Wiping her hands on her apron and exhaling, she turns slowly, taking it all in – the mint-green walls, the cozy tables, and the display counter just waiting to be filled with cookies, cupcakes, and pies.

She giggles, jumping up and down in excitement.

Finally, a place of her own.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out – _T-MINUS 5 HOURS_, the alarm reads. She grabs her coffee from the counter and downs the rest of it, digging into the box to finish unpacking. The smell of chocolate wafts in from the kitchen as she works, and before she knows it, everything is unpacked and organized and she's putting the last tray of cookies on the counter.

_Not bad_, she murmurs to herself, glancing at the clock, _I've still got an hour!_

She opens her laptop and settles into a chair. _Let's see what SHIELD is up to today_.

With a quick couple of keystrokes, she pulls up her news feeds and scans through them. Boring, boring, cat video, hoax, boring. They must be laying low, she guesses, after all that superhero alien stuff in New York. She closes her laptop with a sigh and walks over to the window. Or maybe, she peeks through the blinds at the restaurant across the street, they're planning something big.

She doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary, just a steady stream of customers going in and out with the lunch rush as usual. A flicker of doubt creeps into her mind – maybe the restaurant isn't a front for SHIELD after all, maybe it's just a restaurant. But her gut tells her differently. She's been keeping an eye on Chez Bouclier for a while now, after some digging showed her that it's frequented by someone with ties to the organization. Coupled with the name – House of Shield, how unimaginative – she knew it was worth checking out. And now that she has a front row seat, she's sure she'll catch something eventually.

Her phone buzzes again. _T-MINUS 15 MINUTES, _the countdown reads. She pulls open the blinds and lets the sunlight stream through the windows, keeping her gaze across the street for one last moment. Even if the restaurant turns out to be a dead end, it won't be a total loss. At the very least, she'll still have her bakery.

She walks back towards the counter, taking one final glance around, making sure nothing is out of place. It really is perfect, she smiles to herself, and makes a mental note to send another bouquet to her realtor.

_T-MINUS 5 MINUTES_, her phone buzzes, as she pops open a bottle of champagne, filling the fluted glasses set out on the counter. It's really happening, she thinks, pinching herself to make sure she's not dreaming. Her bakery is finally real.

The countdown ends and the alarm on her phone blares noisily. As she fumbles to turn it off, she hears the door open, the bell ringing lightly – her first customers.

She puts her phone back in her pocket and straightens up, a bright smile on her face.

_Welcome to the Rising Pie Bakeshop!_


	3. L'Entrée

**Pie vs. Spy**

III.

L'Entrée

...

He finds it hard to believe that Agent Coulson, the _legend_ who survived the Battle of New York, is the same man standing in front of him right now. This is the man who fought alongside Captain America, who recruited Iron Man to the Avengers, who stood up to a god and lived.

The man who, at the moment, is wearing a chef's uniform and expertly brandishing a whisk.

_Do you want to know the secret to making whipped cream?_, he asks and Ward frowns at him in confusion. _Sir?_

Coulson lifts up the whisk with a flourish and reveals a bowl of the soft, fluffy mixture. _You have to keep everything cold – the bowl, the whisk, the cream. _He hands Ward the bowl and moves over to the shelves, pulling out a tray that holds three small dishes filled with something that looks like pudding.

_Of course, the easiest way of doing that,_ he continues, _is to simply put everything in the freezer beforehand. But that's only a temporary solution. As you whisk it, the temperature will rise again, so how do you keep it cold? _He gives Ward a pointed look. _By putting the chef in the freezer as well._

He dips a spoon into the mixing bowl and drops a dollop of whipped cream into each of the dishes. _Chocolate mousse?_, he offers, holding out the tray.

_Um, thank you, sir, for the tip_, Ward answers as he takes one of the dishes, _and this is really good, by the way – _Agent Hill nods emphatically in agreement – _but what does any of this have to do with why we're here?_

Coulson sets his dish back down on the tray and stares at Ward, his expression indiscernible.

_Why do you think you're here, Agent Ward?_, he asks, and Ward clears his throat, standing a little straighter when he answers. _I'm here to assist in the covert surveillance of an important SHIELD target and am prepared to do whatever is required of me to ensure the success of the operation, sir._

Agent Hill catches his eye and gives him a satisfied nod_. _

_Actually, _Coulson replies,_you're here to be a chef. But your answer's good too. _

Ward blinks at him in surprise_. Sir, I'm not following_.

_You're not just wearing the uniform to blend in_, Coulson remarks, as if it's obvious. _You'll be working the kitchen_.

_But sir, he_ starts, trying to hide the panic in his voice. _I don't have any experience-_

Coulson waves his hand dismissively. _No agent has the level of culinary training necessary for this mission – well, except me - but I've read your file, and I think you have the kind of dedication and drive that we need. _

He keeps his mouth shut at that, taken aback at the compliment.

_So what do you say?_, Coulson asks._Are you the type of man who only keeps the ingredients cold, or are you the type of man who gets in the freezer? _He eyes him expectantly. _Are you the man for the job?_

Ward looks at the two agents in front of him. This isn't what he had in mind for his first assignment, but it definitely beats paperwork.

_What do I say?_, he responds with a small smirk.

_Yes, chef_.

...

Ward sits silently in the chair, his hands clutching the cup of coffee, hoping he might absorb some of its warmth. Agent Hill was called back to the Hub, so he and Agent, no, _Chef_ Coulson, are alone in the cramped office, discussing the details of the mission.

_I know Agent Hill already briefed you_, Coulson remarks, _so I'll keep this short. _He pulls out his tablet and brings up an image of a middle aged man. _Our target is Edison Po. We believe he has ties to an organization called Centipede, which has been the cause of a number of incidents involving people with special...abilities. _He scrolls through the list of known associates and Ward memorizes each face as it passes by. _He's been visiting this restaurant for the past decade and has recently become so comfortable that he's started conducting business meetings here. Our job, _Coulson continues,_is to gather as much intel as we can, for as long as we can, whether it takes weeks or even months._

Looking up from the tablet, Ward eyes Coulson skeptically. _We're going through all this trouble just to observe him?_

_Don't underestimate the power of observation,_ Coulson replies vaguely. _The current intel suggests Centipede is planning something big soon. And besides, _he continues, shrugging his shoulders, _it's nice to get out of the Hub every once and a while. _He stands up and moves towards the door. _Now, let's get started with your training. _

They walk back to the kitchen, and Coulson introduces him to the other staff, a dishwasher and a line cook, then stops at the fridge, pulling out a handful of vegetables. _Dice up these carrots_, he says, handing him a cutting board, _we're making soup_.

Ward shakes his head, still in disbelief, as he gets to work. Next to him, Coulson is trimming a cut of meat, and they work in silence as the kitchen bustles with life around them.

_Our team here consists of five agents, _Coulson says after a moment, his voice low. _The two of us will be here behind the scenes as executive chef and sous chef_, _and the other agents will work the front of the house – two servers and a bartender. _

_But if the target is a regular here, _Ward asks quietly, _won't he be suspicious at all the new faces?_

Coulson chuckles next to him, _Good catch_._That's why all the arrivals were staggered. I've been here the longest – I convinced the former executive chef to take a sabbatical – then May, the bartender, and we made an exception for FitzSimmons, the servers, and let them start at the same time-_

The kitchen door opens loudly and Ward looks up as a young man and woman walk in, both talking a mile a minute, voices overlapping as they chatter over each other.

_Speaking of..._ Coulson trails off as the woman spots him and makes her way over, the man following right behind.

_You must be Chef Ward_, she says, emphasizing the word _chef_, her poker face so bad she may as well have winked and nudged him too. _I'm Jemma Simmons_, she smiles brightly.

_And I'm Leo Fitz_, the man next to her shakes Ward's hand and whispers at her, _you're going to blow our cover!_

_Sorry! But you know I'm not very good at lying, Fitz! S_he whispers back as they dissolve into a quiet argument.

Coulson clears his throat and they both stop talking. _FitzSimmons_, he announces. _The two of them will be our eyes and ears while we're back here in the kitchen. _

_I'm a bio-chemist and Fitz is an engineer,_ Simmons explains softly, _and we've developed a couple new surveillance gadgets – would you bring them out, Fitz?_

_Yes, of course, I know they're in here somewhere_, he mutters, rummaging through his bag. _Oh, I almost forgot! We brought snacks!_ He pulls out a small box and sets it on the table, opening the lid to reveal an assortment of cookies.

Simmons grabs one of the cookies and takes a bite, smiling appreciatively. _They're from the bakery that just opened across the street! Fitz was peckish on our way over, so we stopped by and had these amazing scones and pie! It's such an adorable little shop-_

_And the owner was really nice too, and young! _Fitz jumps in, quickly eating a half dozen. _Can you even imagine, owning your own bakery at our age? It's really incredible-_

_FitzSimmons!_ Coulson interrupts, _thank you, but why don't you go get set up? I want surveillance up and running for dinner service._ They nod sheepishly and make their way out. _They're the best at what they do_, Coulson says. _And they'll grow on you, _he adds, excusing himself to take a call.

_If you say so,_ Ward murmurs, continuing to dice his pile of vegetables. There's a whole different side to SHIELD, he realizes, and he's been thrown right in the middle of it. He groans silently, wondering what he's gotten himself into.

Fitz wanders back to the kitchen a moment later. _I'm just going to grab these..._, he whispers, taking the cookies off the counter. _Can't work without snacks_, he explains and holds the box out in front of him, _you've got to try one, Ward, they're incredible!_

Ward obliges and takes a cookie, biting into it slowly.

_Good, right?,_ Fitz asks, smiling when he nods and grabs another.

_You'll have to come with us next time,_Fitz says, _Simmons and I are planning to try everything on the menu! And just wait until you meet Skye, she's great! _He begins to walk away, muttering quietly to himself, _too bad we don't need a pastry chef_.

_Hold that thought,_ Coulson says, putting his phone back into his pocket. _Our second line cook just called in sick and we need someone to do desserts for tonight_. _Think your friend can help us out?_

Fitz stares back, wide eyed, and sputters, _Well, I, I don't know, I didn't mean to volunteer her, I just, wow, what are the odds..._ He falters under Coulson's stare. _I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask..._

_Good,_ Coulson nods, _we need her here at 6._

Ward wait until after Fitz hurries away to ask, _are you sure this is the best idea, sir?_, earning him a glare. _Chef_, he corrects himself.

Coulson picks up another slab of meat and begins cutting it into pieces. _Unless you're offering_, he says, chuckling wryly as Ward shakes his head.

_Sometimes you just have to improvise._

…

By the time dinner service rolls around, Ward can barely stand. He's been watching his pot roast for the past three hours and he's still not sure it's done, and he has vegetables to prep and on top of all that, he burned his first batch of bechamel sauce. His ears are ringing from the noise and his arms are covered in cuts and burns.

_I hope you didn't think this was going to be easy_, he hears Coulson shout over the commotion, and he laughs, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

_So, you finally got your sous chef_, a voice says behind him, and Ward turns around to face a stern, lethal-looking woman.

_Melinda May_, Coulson gestures at the older woman, _meet Grant Ward_. Her lips quirk up in the hint of a smile, and Ward barely has time to nod before he's rushing back to the burner to tend to a pot of soup. He curses under his breath as it begins to boil over and quickly turns down the heat.

_Looks like we'll need drinks after our shift_, May says dryly as she leaves the kitchen.

_Very funny, _Coulson yells, and after a beat, _I'm going to hold you to that!, _as the door slams shut. He takes out a spoon and tastes the soup, giving Ward a thumbs up.

_Sounds like a party_, someone says, another woman, walking in from the back door. She grabs a jacket from the rack and tosses it on. _I'm Skye_, she says, pulling her hair up away from her face. _Your sub_, she clarifies, noticing the blank looks on their faces.

Coulson steps forward and extends his hand. _Phil Coulson,_ he says, _and my sous chef, Grant Ward. Thanks for coming on such short notice._

She shakes their hands, grinning. _No problem,_ she says. _What are neighbors for? _She rolls up her sleeves and looks at them expectantly. _Now, where do you want me? _

_You can set up over here_, Coulson points to the end of the table. _Ingredients are on the shelves, the menu and recipes are over here—Ward, I think your pot roast is ready,_ he calls over his shoulder as he takes her on a quick tour.

Ward rushes back to the oven, pulling out the pan and setting it on the table. To his surprise, it actually does look pretty close to perfect, and smells even better.

_Now that's a pot roast_, Skye murmurs, putting her supplies on the counter with a clatter. _Sorry_, she mouths, and gets to work setting up her station, humming as she works.

Ward watches her for a moment, skeptically, especially when she scoops flour into her bowl and accidentally spills most of it on herself.

She catches his eye and laughs, oblivious to the mess. _You know what they say, _she pats the flour off of her jacket, _if you're not making a mess, you're not having fun!_

He throws her a towel and starts plating his soup.

He really hopes she's as good as FitzSimmons said she was.

…

They're halfway through service when he notices someone's missing. He looks around the kitchen and sees a row of chocolate cakes plated and ready, but the chef is nowhere to be found.

He's not the only one who's noticed.

_Ward_, Coulson says sharply, _where's Skye? Dessert's going out in 5 minutes. Are they ready?_

_I'm not sure, Chef, I haven't seen her_, he starts.

_Then find her_, Coulson grinds out, _we've had a pretty smooth service today and I'd like to keep it that way._

Ward puts the finishing garnishes on his plate, then wipes his hands on his apron. _Yes, chef_, he says, making his way to the back of the kitchen. She's not by the ingredients, she's not outside, and he even knocks on the bathroom door, but there's no answer. He makes his way back to his station, pausing in front of the freezer. She wouldn't be in there, would she?

He opens the door, just in case, and sure enough, she's standing inside, holding a bowl and shivering.

_Skye_, he says, _what are you doing in here?_

She looks up at him incredulously, as if the answer's obvious. When she smiles, her teeth chatter slightly.

_I'm making whipped cream. _


	4. Quiche Lorraine

**Pie vs. Spy**

IV.

Quiche Lorraine

…

Skye doesn't think anyone can possibly be more excited about her bakery than herself, but that's before she meets her first customers – a young man and woman whose faces light up the moment they walk in the door.

_Finally!_ The man exclaims as they approach the counter. _We were wondering when this place would be open for business. _

Skye looks at them in surprise, and the woman hits him on the shoulder, admonishing, _Way to sound creepy, Fitz! She probably thinks we've been stalking her or something!_

The man blushes and apologizes hastily. _We weren't stalking you, of course. I mean, we've been keeping tabs on this place for a while now. _He frowns thoughtfully. _Actually, that kind of does sound like stalking…_

_What Fitz means,_ the woman interrupts, elbowing him sharply, _is that we heard the building got sold a few months ago and that it was going to become a bakery and we've been excited, that's all. _

_Yes, thank you, Simmons, _the man continues with a nod. _This area's been lacking a proper bakery, so we're glad you're finally here!_

Skye laughs, _And I'm certainly happy to be here! I'm Skye, the owner. _

_Jemma Simmons, _the woman smiles, then gestures to the man next to her. _And this is Leo Fitz. _

_You guys call each other by your last names?_, Skye asks, taking note when they pause and look at each other.

_Um, just an old habit, I guess_, Simmons says quickly. _Ooh, look, Fitz! Scones!_

Fitz hurries over and presses his hands to the glass. _It's been ages__since we've had scones_, he sighs dramatically. _We'll take two of those and, oh, what do you think, Simmons, some pie as well?_

_Definitely!_ Simmons nods vigorously. _Which one would you recommend, Skye?_

Her eyes scan the line of sweets and she taps a finger to her chin, deep in thought. After a moment, she reaches into the case and pulls out an unassuming pie with a deep golden crust and a sprinkling of coarse sugar on top.

_They're all delicious, of course, _Skye says as she cuts out two slices, a trail of indigo on her knife, _but the blueberry is my favorite_. _Do you guys have time to sit?_ She asks as she pulls out the scones. _You're my first customers!_

Fitz and Simmons look at each other, then at the clock. _I'm not sure,_ Simmons starts at the same time that Fitz says, _we'd love to!_ Skye laughs as they glare at each other. _Oh, come on, Simmons_, Fitz pleads, walking over to the table and sinking into a chair. _We're early for our shift anyways!_

Simmons rolls her eyes. _Oh, alright_, she complies as she sits down.

_Not that I'm taking sides, _Skye starts as she walks over with a tray, _but food does taste better when you savor it. Now, I've got your scones with clotted cream and jam, and two slices of blueberry pie. _She sets the plates down. _And some bubbly, _she hands them each a champagne flute. _It's opening day, after all!_

The two of them leap out of their chairs. _Oh, of course!_ Simmons exclaims, _and to think, I wanted to get our order to go! How rude of me!_

_You've got to be careful around that one, _Fitz jokes. _No manners whatsoever_. He winks and taps his fork to the glass, bellowing, a_ toast, a toast! _

Skye and Simmons look on in amusement as he clears his throat and starts his speech. _To our new friend Skye, _he gestures with a flourish, _for bringing sweets back into our lives! May the Rising Pie conquer all and never fall!_

The two women stare at him blankly when he's finished. _Wow,_ Skye says after a beat, _that was..._

_Too much? I've been told I have a flair for the dramatic_, Fitz blushes. Simmons snorts, muttering under her breath, _that would be an understatement. _

_No!_ Skye shakes her head quickly and smiles broadly. _No, it was perfect! No one's ever made a toast for me before._

_Well it's a good thing you met us then!_ Fitz remarks enthusiastically. _Cheers!_

_Cheers!_ Skye clinks her glass against theirs and takes a sip, sighing blissfully.

_So, Skye, tell us about yourself! How long have you been a baker? _Simmons asks, pulling out a chair. _Sit, sit! _She digs into her scone with relish. _These are incredible, by the way, maybe the best I've ever had!_ Fitz nods in agreement, his mouth too full to speak.

_Well_, Skye responds, taking a seat, _I've been baking since I was a kid, but it was just a hobby until a couple years ago when I started an online shop. Once the orders started coming in, I realized it might be nice to have an actual store, so I worked my ass off and saved up all my money and then saw that this place was for sale! It worked out kind of perfectly, _she reminisces with a smile.

_That's incredible!, _Fitz exclaims. _That level of hard work and dedication, just, wow! _He trails off in embarrassment and polishes off the last bite of his scone. _And what did you do before you came here? _

Skye glances at her laptop perched on the end of the counter and chuckles to herself. _Oh, uh, I worked with computers mostly, _she answers.

_You're a regular jack of all trades aren't you! _Simmons proclaims. _Were you a developer?_

_Something like that_, Skye says noncommittally. _What about you guys? Do you work in this area? _

Fitz clears his throat and dabs his mouth with a napkin. _Funny you should ask-_

_We work right across the street!_ Simmons interjects, gesturing towards the window. _We're servers at Chez Bouclier!_

Skye perks up and leans forward in her chair. _You guys work at Chez Bouclier?_

_Mmhmm, we're actually headed there right after this, _Simmons continues, a satisfied grin on her face as she finishes her pie. _Oh, Fitz, we should bring something back with us! Some snacks for the team, and we've got that new chef starting today!_

_How about some cookies?_ Skye offers, heading back to the counter. _I've got about six different kinds today, so how about I just box up a few of each for you guys to take with you? _

_You know, Skye,_ Fitz says after he's finished, walking over to her with Simmons right behind him, _I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends. _He hands her some cash and takes the box from her hands.

_Bye, Skye! I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon!_ Simmons calls over her shoulder, waving as they stroll out the door. _It was lovely meeting you!_

Skye waves back and walks over to the window, watching as they enter the building across the street.

_Trust me,_ she murmurs out loud, _the pleasure's all mine. _

…

Fitz wasn't kidding when he said the area was lacking a bakery – by the time Skye finally catches a break, it's closing time and she's barely had a moment to think about what her new friends will mean for her SHIELD-hacking operation.

_Come back soon!_ She calls as her last customers exit the shop, shutting the door with a click.

_What a day_, she exhales, cracking her knuckles and making her way back to the kitchen. Digging around the fridge, she grabs enough ingredients to whip up a quick quiche and pops it into the oven. She returns to the front of the shop while it bakes and collapses into a seat, grabbing her laptop off the counter.

Finally, she can plan her next move.

As her eyes scan over the screen – a couple interesting tidbits, but nothing mind-blowing – she ponders how to approach Fitz and Simmons.

Fitz and Simmons, the first SHIELD agents she's ever met, and quite possibly the last two people would ever peg to be part of the organization. They're so unlike what she's heard about SHIELD that she wonders for a moment if she's been wrong about everything. Maybe they're not agents and maybe the restaurant isn't a front. Maybe they're just two servers who work at a French bistro.

Skye groans in frustration and stabs the quiche with her fork. But then she remembers the way they kept calling each other by their last names, and the look they shared when she asked them about it.

They're SHIELD. She's sure of it.

Now she just has to figure out how to get them to invite her in.

She takes a bite of the quiche and leans back in her seat, fidgeting a bit at the thought of using them. They're incredibly funny, their banter is hysterical, and she liked them the minute they started talking, even before she found out where they worked. But the fact that they work at the very place she's been keeping tabs on is an added bonus, and an opportunity that's too good to pass up. She's in the middle of trying to justify it to herself when there's a knock on the door.

Skye closes her laptop hastily and looks up, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Fitz standing outside, waving with an apologetic look on his face. She hurries over and unlocks the door.

_Fitz, hi!_ She steps aside as he lets himself in. _What's up?_

He looks around restlessly and runs a hand through his hair. When he speaks, his words are rushed and jumbled. _Well, for starters, let me just say that those cookies were amazing. Huge hit with everyone, even the new chef! He's this really serious looking guy, but I think I might've actually seen him smile when he ate one of your chocolate chip cookies!_

_Um, thanks?_ Skye responds uncertainly. _Fitz, did you need something? I'm actually closed for the day._

_Oh, of course, sorry to intrude,_ he remarks, and pauses, looking at her seriously.

_I might've done something,_ he says after a moment.

She cocks an eyebrow at him.

Fitz squeezes his eyes shut and bursts out in one breath, _Iaccidentallyvolunteered__y__outobeoursubstitutepastrychefthiseveningI'msosorrypleasedon'thateme._

Skye stares back at him, then laughs as he peeks an eye open. _I have no idea what you just said, but come over here and take a seat. You look really stressed out._

She offers him a glass of water and gestures to the pan on the table. _Want some? It's Quiche Lorraine, fresh out of the oven!_

Fitz sits down and looks at the tart longingly. _I don't deserve any. _His stomach grumbles loudly and he winces. _Maybe just a tiny slice?_

Skye chuckles and hands him a fork. _Now, let's try that again.__You said you might've done something and then after, that all I heard was mumbling. _

He takes a bite of the quiche and gives her a quick thumbs up, then sighs and repeats himself slowly. _I accidentally volunteered you to be our substitute pastry chef this evening. _

When she doesn't respond, he continues, _I'm so sorry, Skye, it was an accident!_

_I'm doing desserts at Chez Bouclier tonight? _She repeats, staring at him blankly.

_Yes! I mean, no, not if you're busy! _Fitz exclaims. _It's all my fault, we were eating your cookies, and I swear, Skye, sweets always make me say the stupidest things, and I mentioned something about how it was a shame we didn't need a pastry chef. Just as a joke! And then the next thing I know, Coulson's telling me you need to be there at 6._ He finishes talking and digs back into the quiche, afraid to meet her eyes.

_I'm doing desserts at Chez Bouclier_, Skye looks at the clock, _in an hour?_ She jumps out of her seat and rushes back into the kitchen, muttering to herself along the way. _Should I change? Do I need to bring equipment? I mean, they probably have everything already. Will they judge me if I don't have my own chef's coat? _

Fitz drops his fork with a clatter and rushes to catch up with her. _Skye?_ He asks as she rummages around the shelves. _Skye, you're not...you're not mad?_

She whips around and looks at him incredulously. _Mad? Why would I be mad?_ _I get to do desserts for one of the best French restaurants in town! _She laughs at the surprised look on his face and jumps up and down. _This is going to be so much fun!_

_Ha, wow, you're taking this well_, Fitz exhales in relief. _You're really not busy tonight?_

_Fitz, _Skye responds with a smile, _there's nowhere I'd rather be. _

He smiles back, then clears his throat. _Well I've actually got to get back, but I'll see you at 6?_ As he makes his way out the door, he calls over his shoulder, _you're a lifesaver, Skye!_

Skye shakes her head and pulls out a small bag, loading her whisk and a few other supplies into it.

It looks like she's got her invitation.

…

It's a quarter till the hour when she arrives at the restaurant. This is her chance, probably her only chance at getting some real intel. Taking a deep breath, she opens the door and steps inside.

Something smells delicious, she notices right away. Fresh herbs and roasting meat. There's a loud banging and sizzling and a lot of yelling as she makes her way through the kitchen to the two men standing over the burners. They have their backs to her and she hears someone she can't see, a woman, mention drinks.

_Sounds like a party_, she calls, and the men turn around to face her. There's a coat hanging from one of the racks and she pulls it on, hoping no one will mind that she's borrowing it.

_I'm Skye,_ she says, tying her hair up into a bun, eyes sweeping over the chefs in front of her. The older of the two, the executive chef, steps forward and introduces himself. So this was the Coulson that Fitz had mentioned. He looks unassuming enough, but judging by his age and the way he carries himself – a bit stiff, too stiff to be a seasoned chef – she guesses he's probably also the leader of the SHIELD team.

_And my sous chef, Grant Ward_, he gestures at the younger man standing next to him. The serious new chef, Skye remembers, taking note of the stern expression on his face. He nods at her, barely cracking a smile. The cookies must have worn off.

_Thanks for coming on such short notice_, Coulson says gratefully, and Skye shakes their hands, shrugging. _No problem_. _What are neighbors for? _She looks around the kitchen and rolls up her sleeves. _Now, where do you want me?_

Coulson gestures to the end of the table, then takes her on a quick tour, showing her the menu and pointing out where the ingredients and equipment are. Skye takes a look at the chocolate cake recipe, her eyes widening at the laundry list of ingredients.

_Don't worry_, Coulson says, noticing her uneasy expression and patting her on the back. _You came highly recommended. And your cookies were outstanding. _

She smiles wryly as he leaves, then pulls a few containers off the shelves and returns to the kitchen, whistling appreciatively at Ward when she sees the beef and vegetables resting in the pan. _Now that's a pot roast_, she murmurs with a smile. He doesn't say anything in response and she has to refrain from rolling her eyes at him.

Tall, dark, and serious? He's definitely SHIELD too.

She sets her supplies on the counter with a little more force than necessary, mouthing _sorry _at Ward as he looks up in annoyance.

What a shame, she thinks as she pulls out a bowl and reads the recipe again. Such good looks wasted on someone so boring.

She scoops out some flour, not quite paying attention, and misses the bowl, spilling most of it on herself. She sputters, brushing the flour out of her hair and catches Ward staring at her. _You know what they say, _she laughs, _if you're not making a mess, you're not having fun!_ The look he gives her is scathing, and she says defensively, _oh, cut me some slack, this is my first time working a dinner service!_

He throws her a towel in response and she wipes the powder from her hair, then sets to work on her cake. The recipe turns out to be one of the most complicated ones she's ever seen, with multiple components, including a ganache and a mousse. It takes her an agonizing couple of hours, but finally, her miniature cakes are plated and all that's missing is the whipped cream.

She takes her bowl and whisk and grabs a carton of heavy cream out of the fridge, then makes her way to the walk-in freezer, looking behind her to make sure no one's watching. Pulling her coat a little tighter around her, she steps inside and sets her supplies onto a shelf.

_This is perfect_, she whispers to herself, pulling a small audio recorder out of her pocket. Crouching down, she sets the device on the floor, then moves a couple containers around to keep it hidden. If she's lucky, she'll pick up more than just the chefs yelling orders back and forth.

With a satisfied grin, she pours the carton of cream into the bowl and starts whisking. Within a few minutes, she can barely feel her fingers and her teeth are chattering, but she doesn't stop. This has always been her preferred way of making whipped cream – by hand, in the freezer.

Right as the cream starts to stiffen, the door opens and Ward is peeking in at her, his face a mixture of exasperation and confusion.

_Skye_, he asks, _what are you doing in here?_

_I'm making whipped cream_, she answers, about to launch into a lengthy explanation, but he just puts his arm on her shoulder, ushering her out of the freezer. _Enough whisking, it's time to start plating. Desserts go out in 5. _

_Perfect timing, then_, Skye says with a grin as they return to the kitchen. She grabs a spoon and places a dollop of cream onto each of the cakes.

Simmons walks through the doors and starts loading the plates onto a tray. _Nice to see you again so soon, Skye_, she smiles. _And well done, these look perfect! _

After all the plates have gone out, Skye leans against the counter, exhausted and barely able to stand. She had thought running her own bakery was tough, but it's nothing compared to this.

_Hanging in there?_ Ward asks, walking over to her and handing her a bottle of water.

_By a thread, _she responds, accepting it gratefully and taking a long swig. _How about you? This was your first day too, right? _

Ward looks at her in surprise. _How did you know that?_

_Fitz mentioned it when he stopped by earlier_, she answers nonchalantly, walking over to the fridge. _Want some cake?_ She asks, pulling out a plate. _I made extras so we could have some too. You go first_, she says, handing him a fork.

He obliges and takes a bite, eyes widening as he chews, a small smile spreading across his face. Skye can't help but smile back – this has always been her favorite part of baking, watching someone take that first bite.

_Wow, _he breathes,_ that is really, really good_.

_It's because I spilled flour on myself,_ she responds cheekily. _That's the secret!_ She laughs and takes a bite, humming happily.

Ward cracks a grin at the joke. _Do you spill flour on yourself every time you make something?_

_Absolutely!_ She answers, then looks at the clock and groans. _As much as I would love to continue discussing my baking secrets with you, I should probably go. I've got a lot of work to do tonight before I open in the morning. Tell everyone there's cake in the fridge, will you? _She takes her coat off and folds it neatly, placing it back on the shelf.

_I will if I don't eat it all myself, _he responds, taking another bite.

_Well, if you think that's good, _Skye scoffs_, just wait until you try my pie! Stop by sometime and I'll treat you!_

_You know,_ Ward answers,walking her to the door. _I just might have to take you up on that offer. _

Skye chuckles and waves goodbye, stepping outside into the alley. She gives him a wink before turning around and making her way back to her bakery.

_I hope you do._

_..._


End file.
